


These Small Hours

by skund



Series: These Small Hours [1]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, Epic, M/M, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine mission for Batman and Superman takes an unexpected turn, and everything comes undone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Superman sat staring out the windows of the Javelin, watching the distant stars shine back at him. He idly flipped a few switches on the main console and noted the readings but the ship currently needed very little attention.

“Hey, did you know stars don’t twinkle in space?”

A grunt answered from behind, towards the back of the Javelin’s cockpit.

“The effect is made by the atmosphere and the way light travels through it. No atmosphere in space, no twinkle.”

Silence.

Clark leaned back in the chair and resisted the urge to put his boots on the console. He didn’t want to admit it but he was totally, utterly and unconditionally bored. The distances between the tiny pockets of life in the galaxy were vast, even with faster-than-light travel. When your trans-light drive was out of commission, the distances felt even greater.

“How’s it going back there?” He called for the third time in fifteen minutes. Once again a noncommittal grunt was all the reply he received. Superman tapped out a rhythm with his fingers on the arm of the pilot seat.

“Stop that.” Batman barked, his voice indistinct.

Clark looked back over his shoulder; Bruce had hardly moved in the last hour, still buried to his waist in the innards of the ship and surrounded by a halo of wires and broken control boards.

“Sorry.” Clark said unrepentantly.

He hated being stuck out here like this. Apart from the obvious inconvenience of being stranded, spending long times stationary in space was disturbing. Space was too quiet, it made Clark’s brain itch. He was used to the cacophony of a planet of almost seven billion people noisily living their lives. The vast darkness outside was devoid of life and sound, the absence creating a void that Clark had always found disconcerting. The Javelin, a little refuge of humming engines, beeping computers, and Bruce’s beating heart was a lifeline to Clark within that cold expanse.

But for now the engine was alarmingly silent. Superman rolled his shoulders and kicked the chair around to watch Bruce work. Batman was still in his uniform but the cowl and gauntlets were lying discarded by his side. Their diplomatic trip to Raxas Prime was only meant to take the afternoon, not even the over paranoid and prepared Batman had thought to bring a change of clothes. By the way Clark’s stomach was starting to growl it was now well past dinner time.

“So, how _is_ it going?”

Batman let out an exasperated sigh. “To be honest, I don’t think I can fix this.”

“I thought the Javelin was prepared for this type of emergency?”

“It is. This damage, however, is extensive. It looks like no part of the power couplers have seen maintenance in the last thirty years. Which is highly improbable, given I upgraded it only last year.”

“Don’t you mean impossible.”

“Clearly not. If it was impossible we’d be home by now.”

“I can help.” Clark offered for the fifth time.

“Clark, there’s barely room for me in here, let alone both of us.”

“I know but I just feel useless.”

Batman didn’t reply.

“We could talk?” Clark suggested. Anything was better than the silence.

The tiny sounds of Bruce working halted and Clark just knew, without even peeking through the bulkhead obscuring his face, that Bruce was giving him _that look_.

“What? We hardly ever talk, and here we are alone with no interruptions for the first time in ages and we’re just sitting here.”

Bruce exhaled loudly and Superman almost flinched at the imminent rebuke.

“What do you want to talk about?” Bruce asked quietly.

Clark blinked, shocked into silence. There was a clatter as Batman dropped the plasma welder and reached for a spanner.

“You know, ‘talking’ does imply some sort of verbal exchange.”

“Sorry, I… wasn’t expecting you to agree.” Clark paused then shook his head. “You really enjoy throwing me for a loop, don’t you.”

Bruce snorted, but there was no menace behind it. “It’s a hobby.”

“So…” Clark started, before faltering. “I, er… hmm. Did you catch that Knights game last weekend?”

The spanner was suddenly flung at his direction. Clark laughed even as he pulled up his feet to let it clatter harmlessly against the base of the chair. It couldn’t have hurt him, but it wasn’t worth Bruce’s wrath for damaging a piece of equipment, despite who was throwing it around in the first place.

“Hey!” Clark yelled in mock indignation. “It was just- I haven’t seen you in so long. Where do I start?”

“Well not with sporting events, that’s for sure.”

“Hey, I have it on good authority that the majority of adult male conversations are centred around sports.”

Bruce made a strangled noise which could have been a laugh. He slid out from the Javelin’s innards and propped his back against the bulkhead, running oily fingers through sweat slick hair. Clark went to him, crossing the small space between them and turning to sit beside

Batman on the floor. He brushed a stray strand of hair from Bruce’s forehead.

“That’s better.” Clark said softly.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. There was oil smudges across his nose. Clark grined at him and Bruce smirked in return

“Goofing around like this isn’t going to get us home any faster.” Bruce chided.

“I know.”

Bruce slowly shook his head.

“When was the last time we actually talked. Just talked, no working, no masks.”

“Last week.”

“What?”

“Georges Building, after that mission to Atlanta.”

“B, yelling at each other on rooftops isn’t talking.”

Bruce shrugged, like he couldn’t make out the distinction and studied his work-stained hands.

“I’m sorry I was so long in Kyoto. I couldn’t miss those merger meetings.”

“It’s not your fault. I couldn’t stop to meet you there anyways, with the earthquake in California and that shuttle failure and… things.”

Bruce shrugged again. “It’s fine, Clark. We knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I know, I know. But it’s just…” Clark trailed off.

He glanced over at Bruce, who was studying his face carefully. Clark returned his gaze. Of its own accord his hand came up to cup Bruce’s chin, absently rubbing at a smudge on Bruce’s cheek. He leaned in slowly and just brushed their lips together, softness and warmth and then Clark captured Bruce’s lips with his own. The kiss started slow and gentle but Bruce always demanded more and soon their lips were meeting with increasing passion. They kiss for long minutes, before their awkward position on the floor causes them to pull away.

“That was definitely not ‘talking’.”

“Well, no.” Clark admits with a grin.

“If you’re going to start dictating social interactions I’d strongly advice you get your definitions straight-“

“Oh shut up, Bruce.”

Clark laughed and leaned forward to cut the flow of words with another kiss. Soon their lips were sliding over each others, Bruce languidly sucking on Clark’s tongue. Then, in a move so subtle Clark hardly saw it, Bruce pushed Clark backwards to slide down the wall and leaned down to resume the kiss. Clark’s hands slipped into Bruce’s damp hair, then froze. It took Bruce a moment to notice his partner’s sudden lack of enthusiasm.

“What?”

“Shh… Do you hear that?”

Bruce frowned in concentration.

“There’s something…” Clark concentrated on the noise, something buzzing on the edge of his awareness.

Then the control console lit up with warnings and flashing lights, beeping loudly. Bruce was on his feet and at the controls in a heartbeat, deft fingers flying across the keys.

“Two unidentified craft approaching, eleven o’clock.”

Clark was right beside him, hands similarly occupied. “They’re interstellar class, heavily armed, extensive shields.” He frowned. “But large portions of the ships are empty space. Minimal living quarters. That doesn’t make any sense-”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “Pirates. Damn it Clark, they’re pirates.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things never go well when there's space pirates around. Betaed by the wonderfully patient [](http://fictionalknight.livejournal.com/profile)[**fictionalknight**](http://fictionalknight.livejournal.com/)

They stood side by side in front of the cockpit windows, watching the two heavily armed ships descend. Bruce’s nimble fingers danced over the controls as he tried to manoeuvre the crippled Javelin.

“Two ships. The smaller fighter has superior firepower, but the freighter is still a formidable threat.” Bruce read off the scrolling monitors.

“Engines?” Clark demanded.

“Nonexistent.”

“Weapons?”

“Power couplers are shot. We have nothing.”

The adrenalin that hammered through Clark’s veins was making his muscles jump, the movement obvious in contrast to Bruce’s calm composure.

“I can take them.” Clark announced.

Bruce’s hands on the controls stilled and he turned to study his partner. Clark looked determined and confident, but he always did at moments like this.

“Go.” Bruce nodded.

Clark nodded in return and sped out of the cockpit, pausing only to grab a rebreather/communication headset before exiting out of the airlock and into the cold clutch of space.

The two ships where bearing down fast. Clark sped towards the fighter, aiming straight for its prominent plasma cannons. He wrapped his arms around the barrel and pulled it towards him, feeling the reinforced hull buckle and rend under his hands. This close to the ship he could almost feel the surge of energy as the remaining weapons powered up. Over his head, the freighter blitzed past, heading for the Javelin.

“Clark,” Bruce’s voice was suddenly in his ear, “the freighter has an unusual energy build up in its starboard engine. You could-”

“Strike there for maximum damage, got it.”

“Good luck. I’m doing all that I can from here.”

Clark reached for another gun, squeezing the barrel shut just as the power surge peaked and the weapon discharged. The deformed barrel in his hands exploded under the sudden pressure. The immense energy release slammed into Clark like a wall and for a moment the world was white pain. He was thrown far from the ship, tumbling helplessly through space. His stunned, aching body took ages to start responding again. As soon as he managed to halt his chaotic spin, he turned to face the ships. He’d lost valuable time. The pirates were almost upon the Javelin, blocking it from view.

“Bruce? Bruce!” Clark’s head was spinning and his voice sounded strange. There was no reply. He sped towards the ships, relief flooding through him when the Javelin intact came into view. As he watched, the Javelin’s defence shields flickered to life, then doubled in intensity. Clark released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding; Bruce’s efforts with the engine hadn’t been entirely futile.

“Bruce!”

Still no answer. He was so close to the ships, almost there.

“Bruce!”

A piercing squeal of feedback made him wince and reach for his ears. He’d almost pulled the comm. unit from his head when the sound seeped down into a loud ringing and he realized the sound was his own ears, deafened by the explosion, recovering. But not fast enough. If Bruce was calling him there was no way he could hear.

He reached the ships and latched onto the freighter, looking for the engine exhausts. But as he watched, seemingly in slow motion, the ships opened fire. There was a brilliant flash as the weapons fire impacted on the Javelin’s shields. They withstood the barrage well but under the assault of two ships the smaller craft didn’t have a chance. The shields flickered out after a few seconds, the burst of displaced energy racing across Clark’s skin like invisible fingers.

Clark’s heart seized. The Javelin was failing and Bruce was in that fragile shell of life. The sudden thought that he could lose that all, right here; be left on his own, out here in the pounding silence of space alone, was chilling. He couldn’t let that happen. Clark punched through the hull of the freighter pulling fiercely at the wiring and conduits below, searing with his eyes that which he couldn’t reach.

Beyond, the Javelin was visibly venting gas. The fighter was swinging away for a final attack run. Clark’s only comfort was that the pirates wouldn’t destroy a ship before they’d looted it. Usually. But if they got on board there would be no such assurances on Bruce’s life. The ships clearly now didn’t consider the Javelin a threat, and out of the corner of his eye Clark saw the fighter track him with its remaining weapons. He scanned it with his x-ray vision even as his hands still worked at disabling the freighter. As soon as he felt the ship under his hands shudder to a halt, sparking and leaking engine fluids, he flew to intercept the fighter. He punched through the ship headfirst, through an empty corridor and out the other side. A blast of escaping atmosphere followed him.

That last manoeuvre left him free of all three ships and, as he turned back again to view the battle, he was just in time to see the rear of the Javelin buckle under weak fire from the limping attacking ship.

“No!” he screamed, his voice sounding hollow to his own damaged ears.

Both ships were seriously damaged and floundering, but the Javelin was gasping its last breaths. It wasn’t enough. He’d tried his best and it wasn’t enough and... oh God, Bruce. No. Everything was going to hell around him and he couldn’t stop it and it was every nightmare he’d ever woken from screaming and…

And then, everything actually did go to hell around him.

The attacking fighter ship, still leaking atmosphere, suddenly veered off course. At the same time something invisible slammed into Clark and he gasped soundlessly. The fighter started shuddering, as did the Javelin. The freighter, venting engine plasma, was struggling to leave the scene. It was all madness, with no cause in sight.

But then it was apparent. There it was. A planet, hanging suddenly so close Clark almost wanted to reach out and touch it, all blue and green and glittering under a huge red sun.

The fighter, in the middle of its final attack, exploded prettily against this backdrop, its movement against the sudden gravity of a planet and its star in close proximity tearing the ship apart. The freighter ship was still limping away from the debris, apparently no longer interested in the conquest. But Clark hardly saw either, his entire being focused on the tiny, broken Javelin. Its smaller size and stationary position had preserved it from the extreme reaction of the other ship, but its already compromised structure was being pelted with debris and it was still desperately loosing oxygen. Clark flew towards it and laid his hands on the freezing metal, feeling nothing but stillness. He wished for anything now to hear Bruce, but his ears were still ringing painfully. Bruce had to be okay. He was always okay. Clark didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Clark mumbled and the mantra was soothing. Clark repeated it to himself, even if he could barely hear his own words. He looked beyond the Javelin to the planet below; the sudden, inexplicable planet. And that was it, wasn’t it? A planet. It looked blue; that promised water. It was also green, which suggested life. It might even possess a breathable atmosphere.

Clark, hands gently laid against the Javelin’s damaged hull, pushed the ship towards the planet, even as the crimson light from its sun set his muscles trembling. This had to work. He felt gravity tug at the ship as the planet grew closer. The atmosphere was weak, but still burned against his skin as they fell faster and faster, descending as one.

If Bruce were with him he would point out every single flaw in the plan half-formed in Clark’s mind. But Bruce wasn’t and for the moment he just had to trust Clark. And Clark was trusting to hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Batman and Superman's routine mission goes wrong the Batclan wake up so some troubling news.

_Beep beep._   
_  
Beep beep. _   
_  
Beep beep. _

“Alright, damn it.” The groan came from the dishevelled bed, where a jumble of blankets and limbs turned into a not-quite sleeping form. Questing hands retrieved the madly beeping device from where it had been abandoned on the floor. Fingers jabbed at the buttons and a soft light filled the room as the screen activated.

“Master Dick.” Alfred’s clipped English tones were far too formal for that hour of the morning. “Apologies for the disturbance on you night off.”

“”S fine, Alfie. What’s up?”

“I’m afraid that Master Bruce and Master Clark have missed their recent scheduled check-ins. I’m sure nothing untoward has happened but-“

Dick frowned and rubbed his face with one hand. “How long?”

“Twelve hours, sir.”

“I’ll be right there.”

\---

Tim was already at the cave when Dick arrived, engrossed in the data scrolling across the main computer screens. Alfred was hovering nearby under the pretence of looking for abandoned coffee cups.

“Nothing yet.” Tim stated as soon as he heard Dick’s footsteps, pre-empting the question already on his lips.

The former Robin nodded in thanks and walked up to Tim, leaning on the back of his computer chair. “What’s the plan?”

“The League have been informed, they’re liaising with the Green Lanterns.” Tim’s voice was quiet and steady in the damp stillness of the cave.

“Then we should hear something soon.”

Tim turned his head to look up and back at him out of the corner of his eye. His dubious expression was obvious to Dick even under his mask. Dick reached down to ruffle Tim’s hair, causing Robin to glare at him further.

“I am sure we will hear from Master Bruce and Master Clark shortly. You know their perchance for finding trouble.” Alfred stared calmly.

“Yeah, don’t worry Alfred. They’ll bring ‘em home.”

“Of course, sir.” Alfred replied with his usual calm, but his collected demeanour wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. “If you will excuse me.” He retreated up the stairs, hands full of salvaged coffee-stained mugs.

Dick silently watched him leave, then turned back to study the screen before him. Tim was diligently working away at the computer, readouts constantly flashing up on the large screen as he worked.

“If you wanted to be useful you could go compile that incoming data from the Watchtower.”

Dick smirked and went to ruffle Tim’s hair again but this time the Robin dodged and smacked his hand away. Dick smirked as he settled into the other chair, bringing up the relevant data to examine. They worked in silence, running through the mountain of data downloaded from the Watchtower and beyond. Dick’s worry for Bruce and Clark was a constant presence in the back of Dick's mind, like a stone in his shoe. Currently they were just missing; their diplomatic mission was unlikely to turn nasty but there was always the possibility they’d been caught up in something. Or they merely could have been waylaid by the million different challenges of space travel. Until they heard news to the contrary Dick wasn’t overly concerned, and he was trying to convey that to those less optimistic by nature.

The almost endless supply of measurements and readings, which they trawled through together, kept them busy for some time. But after the initial influx, they could set up search algorithms to filter out the excess and focus on searching for signs of the Javelin. Almost an hour later, Dick leaned back in his chair and stretched his aching arms. He glanced over to Tim, still working hard.

“Shame you got dragged away from your hot date for this,” Dick teased.

Tim turned to give him a deadpan look without even halting his fingers on the keyboard. Dick snorted.

“You finished with that data already?”

“Well, you know me. I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Last time I overheard Cassie and Kara gossiping over you they weren’t complementing your _face_ or your computer skills.” Tim replied with a smirk.

Dick laughed as he shook his head. He was relieved to get a smile out of the younger man. They’d been here before, the two of them playing the waiting game for word of Bruce, missing or absent. Dick knew how obsessive Tim could get at times like this, and knew when he needed someone to bring him back to himself. Someone to look out for him.

\---

Early morning light flooded the kitchen as Dick entered, still blinking from the darkness of the cave below. There was a fresh pot of coffee steaming on the countertop and he poured himself a cup almost by habit.

“Ah, there you are.”

Dick turned at the familiar voice and raised his mug in greeting.

“Master Timothy has left for school.”

“On no sleep? Ouch.”

“I am sure you have done the same on many occasions.”

“Yeah, but I usually end up paying for it later. Then again, Tim’s pretty damn-“

“Tenacious, sir?” Alfred interrupted.

“Not quite the word I would have used.” Dick replied with a grin.

Alfred responded with only a dip of his head. Dick leaned back against the kitchen bench, nursing his coffee.

“I take it there are no new developments?”

“No, sorry Alfie.”

The next mouthful of coffee was little more bitter than it should be. Seventeen hours now. It wasn’t that long a time to be incommunicado, but after hours of searching space readings from the Watchtower with no success, things were starting to feel a little more real. Caught in his own thoughts for the moment, Dick stared vacantly out the windows, to the meticulous gardens beyond. Nearby, the old butler stared fussing with pots and pans. The early morning light was filling the homely room with a warm, golden glow. To an outside observer the scene would seem domestic and peaceful. But the two occupants of the room felt none of the peace of their surroundings. Batman and Superman were at the heart of so many things; their respective cities, the Justice League and more lately the centre of the odd, extended family that called the Manor their home. Their absence, though brief so far, left an obvious void.

“Breakfast, sir?” Alfred asked, breaking Dick out of his reverie, as the smell of cooking pancakes filled the room.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dick set his cup down and went to set the kitchen table and Alfred tended the stove. They all needed someone to look out for them, sometimes.

\---  
**  
One week later...**

“Still nothin’?” Bart’s question’s broke Tim’s fierce concentration and he looked up to glare at the speedster. Bart flinched at the look and held his hands up in submission. “Sorry, man. Geez, lighten up.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his face, pushing his calculus homework away and tapping a few keys of the keyboard, still running endless searches for any signs of Batman and Superman. Bart took the move as an invitation to sit and wriggled into a chair next to Tim and started absently fiddling with the scattered pens.

“No, nothing yet.” Tim replied quietly.

“Hey, don’t be so down.” Bart consoled, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “It’s only been a week. There was this thing, in the paper, last week ‘bout a dog that rocked up being missing for _years_.”

Tim frowned but smiled despite himself. His friend had been a constant companion since the news of Bruce and Clark’s disappearance, providing his own brand of comfort and care.

“I just can’t understand why you’re still doing homework. You must be insane. Not that I hadn’t already guess-“

The doors to the rec room flew open, cutting Bart off, as Kon barrelled into the room.

“Tim! Tim! They’ve found something!”

Tim was frozen in place, half turned towards the doors. Bart let out a whoop and leaped to his feet to punch the air, chair spilling to the ground behind him. Kon rushed over and grabbed Tim by the arm, pulling him to his feet.

“You, me, Watchtower. Now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Kon are summoned to the Watchtower, but the news isn’t all good.

The Watchtower was packed; news travels fast in the superhero community. The size of the crowd gave no indication if the recent development was good news or bad and from the overall buzz no one gathered seemed to know either. Superboy still had his hand wrapped around Robin’s wrist as he dragged him determinedly through the crowd, using his bulk to squeeze between gossiping groups. Tim was content for the moment to trail in Kon’s wake, absorbed in thought. Surely they wouldn’t have been summoned to the Watchtower unless Superman and Batman had been found. Tim had spent every waking moment over the last week searching for Superman and Batman but now, with the tension in the twisting corridors echoing his own racing heart, he wasn’t sure he wanted the search to come to an end. Not if they were... No, he wouldn’t think like that. Eyes, surrounded by multicoloured masks, colourful capes swirled around them.

Tim’s calm demeanour, a Bat necessity in such a public place, was getting harder to maintain by the second. Kon’s palm was hot and sweaty against his wrist and Tim took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one quietly freaking out.

They finally pushed their way through to the meeting room, where Nightwing was already standing with Wonder Woman and the Martian Manhunter. They were all watching the Green Lantern John Stewart in a heated discussion with a redskinned, beaked alien in the green and white of a Lantern. By the looks of the surrounding League members the argument had been going on for some time, and it wasn’t going well.

“What’d we miss? What’s happening?” Kon demanded.

Nightwing turned to look at them, his face deliberately and disturbingly, expressionless. “I’m not... It’s...”

“What?” Tim and Kon barked at the same time.

Diana turned to look at them both. She didn’t look happy in the slightest. John was still arguing loudly with the other Lantern, apparently over scanner settings and other technical details.

“The Green Lanterns found debris from spacecraft along the Javelin’s set flight path.” Diana explained.

Tim had a horrible sinking feeling. “So they’re...”

“No, it’s gone.” Dick interrupted.

“Wait, what?” Kon asked with a frown.

“The debris is gone. It just vanished and the Lanterns can’t detect it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re telling me. John’s trying to find out the full details now but it looks like... nothing. No one knows what’s going on.” Dick finished quietly.

“So now what?” Kon asked.

J’onn turned to look at them then and made a complicated movement that Tim realised was the Martian’s interpretation of a shrug. The sinking feeling in Tim’s stomach intensified.

“It has taken over a week to discern any trace of Batman and Superman, and then the smallest hint we find disappears shortly after. Our options grow fewer.” J’onn said.

“Well we can’t just give up.” Kon declared.

“No one’s talking about giving up.” Diana reassured.

“But we have exhausted every avenue. Our sensors cannot find them. Robin’s own analyses cannot find them. And now the Lanterns cannot.” J’onn explained.

“So what, we just abandon them?” Kon said.

“No, we don’t.” Dick replied with conviction.

John, finishing his conversation with the alien Lantern, turned to join the conversation.

“Look, we’ve done all we can. I want to find Batman and Superman as much as you do, but this search has consumed almost the whole League for a week. We can’t keep throwing all our time and resources at a hopeless cause.”

“I am not a quitter! _Superman_ is not a quitter. I’m not just going to-“ Kon yelled.

“Enough. We are not giving up. But Green Lantern is right, we can no longer dedicate the entire League to the search. We will appoint a search party to go look for them. Everyone else can return to their normal duties.” Diana said, with special emphasis on the last sentence. The milling League members and assembled heroes looked at her. Some took the hint and groups started breaking up and leaving. But many stayed right where they were.

“That sounds like quitting to me.” Kon snarked.

“You think you can do better finding them, feel free to go look yourself.” John snapped back.

“Maybe I will!”

Dick rubbed at his forehead with one hand as Diana stepped between the two, palms up.

The argument between John, Kon and J’onn continued but Tim let the words flow over him unheeded. The time for traditional actions seemed to have ended and now the situation called for something a little more... proactive. Tim turned on his heel and weaved he way out through the thinning crowd. He heard Kon and Dick calling after him, but didn’t reply, his mind a jumble of possibilities, probabilities and burning hope.

\---

Dick awoke to some sort of heinous torture. His internal body clock was telling him it wasn’t even an hour past dawn and his face was warm from the golden sun filling the room. He warily cracked an eye open to see someone had opened the heavy drapes to the radiant morning outside. A wry, dancing silhouette turned into Alfred leaving a breakfast tray beside the bed. Traitor. Dick groaned loudly and dragged the quilt up over his head.

“Excellent, you’re awake. Would you like fruit or honey on your muesli?”

“Wha’?”

“For breakfast, sir. I brought both but couldn’t remember which you preferred.”

Dick wondered how anyone was expected to function as such an ungodly hour. He merely grunted in reply. Why was Alfred in his room this early? He normally inflicted this kind of torture on Bruce. Why didn’t he- Oh. The events of the last night crashed back into this mind. Of the revelation that Bruce and Clark had been found followed closely by the bizarre news that all trace of them was gone. The news had been hard to swallow, especially by Tim. Robin had stalked out of the Watchtower’s meeting room without a backwards glance and Dick hadn’t managed to find him all night. And now it was morning. Weren’t things meant to seem brighter in the first light of the day? If so, it certainly wasn’t working for Dick today. He lay still in the warmth of his bed for a heartbeat longer, then threw the covers back and blearily watched Alfred potter around messing up his room. Dick reached for the breakfast tray and piled all the fruit and honey onto the cereal before taking a mouthful.

“Ah, Master Tim was looking for you earlier. He wanted you to meet him in the Cave at your earliest convenience.”

Dick immediately dumped his breakfast bowl on the tray and reached for his jeans on the floor before Alfred spirited them away.

“I’m sure you have time to-“

Dick hastily pulled the jeans on, found the rest of his clothes and headed for the door.

“-finish your-“

He was already gone.

“-breakfast.” Alfred sighed to himself.

\---

“So, what’s the news?” The words were out of Dick’s mouth before he’d even reached the bottom step leading to the Cave proper. Tim was ensconced in his usual position of late, in front of the computer consoles. The massive screens were filled with blueprints of something that looked like the Javelin.

“What’s that?” Dick asked, walking over to rest his hands on the back of Tim’s chair. No, Bruce’s chair, not Tim’s. It was too soon to start thinking like that.

“This is the Lance, a prototype multipurpose space craft Bruce designed. It’s four times bigger than the Javelin, fitted with extensive shielding and defensive weapons. Basically a long range, deep space ship. Oracle was up all night helping me dig it up out of Bruce’s encrypted files.”

“You think this is going to help us find Bruce and Clark?”

“It’s a match for any ship currently on record, scanning and research capabilities included. Why not? I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of sitting around just pushing buttons.” Tim replied, standing up and stepping around the chair so he could talk to Dick face to face.

“But how long would it take to manufacture something like this?”

“About fives years.”

Dick sighed heavily.

“Luckily, that’s about how long Bruce has had this under construction.”

Dick’s bark of laughter was loud in the damp calm of the cave. “You’re kidding.”

“The parts have been manufactured separately under different puppet companies. I’m having them shipped and assembled in a factory in Singapore as we speak.”

“So... we... we’re seriously going to do this.”

There was a sudden gust of wind and suddenly Kon was there, tossing a bag of takeout hamburgers on the console and throwing his arms around both Bat’s shoulders.

“We’re going into space!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some exposition. The boys head into space on a seemingly impossible mission. But Bats and Supers eat impossible for breakfast.

The massive hangar was still in the pre-dawn dark. Two shadows walked along the metal gangway, their footsteps echoing loudly. Ahead of them the sleek curve of a ship was just visible in the dim light.

“Is that it?” Superboy asked, glancing back to look at Robin.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“It doesn’t look very big.”

With a sudden ‘thunk’ the industrial lights suspended above snapped to life and the subsequent rows of lights followed turn. Under the harsh light the smooth line of the ship before them resolved into a small cockpit, attached to a vessel which was much larger but still shared the same predatory lines.

“Woah.” Kon breathed.

Nightwing left the bank of light switches and jogged up the long mental walkway to meet them. “So, it’s all finished?”

“Yeah, fully complied, constructed and tested in just under five days.”

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“I guess. Just don’t ask to see the overtime bill.” Tim replied. “How did things go with the League?”

Dick sighed heavily, leaning back against the metal railing. “Well, they weren’t happy. Bruce’s little side projects aren’t really a favourite of theirs.”

Kon snorted and Dick threw him a wry smile.

“But, not much they can do now. It’s built and we’re going.”

“They’re just going to let us go?”

“Well, no. Two League members are coming with us.”

“Who?”

“Flash and... John the Green Lantern.”

“Oh great, not him!”

Dick just shrugged. “Do you want to go argue with the League? ‘Cause I’ve had more than enough of that tonight already. Today. This morning. Geez...” He rubbed at his face tiredly.

“Okay, fine, whatever. Flash and Captain Boring are coming too. So when to we leave?”

Kon and Dick both looked at Tim, who looked right back at them.

“Um, soon? I hope. Launching spaceships wasn’t exactly in my training.”

“That’s why I’m here.” A voice called from above. John Stewart, glowing green, was gliding slowly over the Lance. “Nice ship. It would be even nicer if it was brought back in one piece.” He flew over and landed gently before the boys. “That’s what us ‘boring’ people are here for.”  
Superboy just rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get this thing running.” John declared, turning on his heel and striding towards the hatch on the side of the cockpit, at the end of the gangway. Tim turned and followed after him and a moment later Kon followed too.

Dick wasn’t alone for long; a few moments later a red blur appeared, resolving quickly into the Flash, standing before him with his arms noticeably full.

“Beer, Wally? This isn’t a cross country road trip.” Nightwing said.

“I know that. But you do realise there aren’t any gargoyles or rooftops in space, right? You Bats are just gonna have to brood like normal people.” Wally replied, pushing the box at Dick before speeding off down to the ship.

Dick looked down at the case of cheap beer in his arms. From beyond the open hatch door he could just hear Kon and John yelling about something. This was going to be a long trip.

\---

But thankfully, the trip was not that long. The engines in the Lance were more advanced than anyone suspected and had John muttering to himself during the hours it took to reach their destination. The sector of space the Lanterns had made their fleeting discovery was unremarkable, just another expanse of nothing surrounded by absence. Nonetheless, Tim couldn’t take his eyes away from the cockpit windows. This was it, this was where they last were. It should feel momentous being here, or significant. But it didn’t feel any different at all.  
Green Lantern was sitting in the pilot’s seat next to Tim calmly monitoring the ship’s systems, the soft whisper of his gloves on the controls the only sound in small space. Kon and Wally had tired of the streaming starscape and wandered off hours ago, trailed shortly after by a worried Nightwing. They all stopped by the cockpit frequently, searching for news. Most recently Dick had dropped in with steaming coffee for all of them. But now the expansive cockpit was quiet once more with both occupants absorbed in their own thoughts, John sipping absently at his coffee.

“Scanners still show nothing.” The Lantern’s baritone voice broke the silence.

Robin turned gave the older man a critical look. It wasn’t like he couldn’t come to that conclusion on his own. John gave a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I’m not used to working with children.”

Tim turned back to looking out the windows without response.

“You do realise this is futile, don’t you?”

“I don’t care.” Tim spoke after a long pause. “That’s all everyone’s been saying for days but I don’t care. Batman and Superman wouldn’t give up on me, if the situation was reversed. They wouldn’t give up on _anyone_, and yet they go missing and the League can’t forget about them fast enough.”

“That’s not true and you know it, son. The League has dropped everything to search for both of them, we’ve used the Lanterns, called in every favour we’re owed and asked begged a few favours too.”

“I know, I know. It’s just-“

“Hard. Loosing friends in the line of duty is hard, I know.” John reached for the coffee by his elbow and took a sip, pulling a sharp face. “Cold. That didn’t take long. Anyway, I want you to understand that this is a last ditch attempt. If they’re... If we can’t find them then you need to let this go.”

Tim sighed and leaned back in the deep leather seat, eyes fixed on the stars.

\---

Flash popped his head in the doorway next. “Hey guys, what’s happening?”

“Nothing.” Tim replied tiredly as Wally came to peer over his shoulder at the controls.

“Don’t be so glum, chum. There’s always- Hey! What was that?”

Tim frowned down at the screen Wally was pointing at, which hadn’t changed at all in the last two hours.

“What do you mean?”

“There was a- there it is again! You don’t see that? Huh, I guess not, it’s pretty fast.”

“What, what do you see?” John leaned forward in his chair.

“All the numbers jump for a bit. I dunno, it’s kinda weird.”

Tim frowned in concentration as fingers danced across the controls, recording the sensor readings and then playing them back in slow motion on a second screen. The two looked identical, until the playback flickered for half a second.

“There.” John exclaimed. “Slow it down again.”

Tim played the recording back even slower. The familiar readings scrolled across the screen, then jumped wildly for a moment, before returning back to normal.

“What on Earth is that?” John muttered under his breath.

“See, I told ya!”

“It’s almost as if... the sensors detect something completely different for a moment. The background radiation, light quality, it all changes.” Tim said as he scrutinised the readings again.

“Pretty weird, hey?”

“You want to see something weird?” Nightwing’s voice startled them all and Tim turned to see him casually leaning against the open door.

“I think we’ve trumped you for weird, dude.” Wally said.

“Yeah?” Dick replied, holding out a small, fuzzy, green and white lump. Wally took it carefully, turning it over in his own gloves.

“Dick, I think we’ve got something.”

The young man quirked an eyebrow. “What? Let me see.”

“Hey, what is this thing?” Wally said, sniffing at it and wrinkling his nose. “It smells rank.”

“Oh, it’s cheese. Well, it was.”

“Eeewww!” Wally jumped, dropping the lump which fell with a dull squish on the floor. “Oh that is gross. And you made me touch it! Eeeww.”

“What do you mean it’s cheese?” John interrupted Wally’s sounds of disgust.

“I went to make some lunch and found two of the refrigeration units like that, all moulded up. Looks like that stuff has been there for months but I only stocked them yesterday.”

Tim looked between all three then back to the screen looping the slowed down sensor readings. “We’ve picked up these tiny moments of unexplained readings, picoseconds of data. It’s like there’s something passing through the ship. Little bubbles of a different reality.”

“Or time.” Dick suggested, wiping his mould stained gloves on his leg.

“Yeah, that’s it. That could explain the patchy readings the Lanterns were getting.” John said.

“You reckon?” Wally asked, puzzled.

“Think about it. We can’t find them not because they’re not here, but because they’re not _here_.” Tim suggested.

“Time, not space.” Dick added.

“Okay, right, Twilight Zone, I getcha. So hands up who packed the time machine?” Wally asked.

John rubbed his chin with one hand. “This is not good. We have no way of tracking these ‘bubbles’. If one of them should appear in the engines or the air scrubbers... or one of us.”

“Okay, so we need to work this out fast and get outta here.” Dick said.

“I don’t think we’ll need a time machine. The Lanterns found debris before, right? That means there was a fight. Something during that might have triggered some sort of time shift.” Tim said.

“Like what? Bombs? Explosions?”

“Energy.” Dick suggested.

“Yeah, energy released from a fight could, I don’t know, affect these time bubbles. Make them stronger, or bigger?”

“Like using a tachyon blast to trigger a stable wormhole.” John explained.

“Yeah, something like that. What if all we have to do to find Bruce and Clark is open the door?”

“So what now?” Wally asked.

“We need to get some energy out there. Recreate the circumstances.”

“Priming weapons.” John said, fingers working the controls. The ship rocked as the energy canons discharged. “Wally, keep an eye on those readings.”

“Woah, that totally worked.” Wally yelled. “Again!”

John sent out a volley of shots, sweeping across the empty space. Tim jumped when he saw the sensor spike on his own. John continued firing as the cockpit filled with the noise of canon fire and then the squeal of alarms as the readings continued to fluctuate. And then suddenly the ship lurched sideways and the windows were filled with a gentle red light.

“Oh my god.” Wally said slowly.

The ship stabilised against the sudden gravity and the wail of alarms tapered off until there was just one constant chirp filling the room – the sounds of the Javelin’s locator beacon.

Dick picked himself up from where he’d been thrown against the bulkhead. “A planet. I can’t believe... that must be it.”

“We need to get down there.” Tim said resolutely.

Dick and John both nodded in agreement. Behind them all the sound of boots running on the metal floor resolved into Superboy, who burst through the door. “What the hell are you shooting at? You guys found... Woah. That... wasn’t there before.”

Tim turned back to look at his friend. “I think we’ve found them.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long and heartbreaking search comes to an end.

The sleek black shuttle slipped smoothly through the atmosphere, the dim red light sliding over its smooth lines. Green Lantern was calm and relaxed in the pilot’s chair but behind him Robin and Superboy were decidedly less stoic.

“How come you get to fly the ship?”

“Because you’re not a trained Marine, Superboy.”

“So? I’m sure I could fly it. It can’t be hard.”

John very pointedly didn’t turn around to look at Kon.

“So how much-“

“If you _dare_ ask me how much longer I will boot you out-“

“How about we just land, okay?” Tim interrupted. The other two fell silent but the tension in the tiny craft was high.

Tim sighed quietly and tapped the communications panel. “How are things looking, Nightwing?”

“The time bubble seem fairly stable from this end but I’ll keep a close eye on it.” Dick’s voice sounded tinny through the speakers.

“Good. Make sure you use those energy weapons again if it starts to destabilise. I don’t know what would happen to us if that time gap closed up on us, but I don’t want to find out either.” John ordered.

“Yes, sir. Flash is keeping a check on time disturbances within the ship itself. We should be okay for a bit.”

“Good, Lantern out. How’s that atmosphere scan looking, Robin?”

“Just finishing now.” Tim scrutinised the screen. “Wow, okay. It’s almost Earth standard down there. Carbon dioxide is a bit high but nothing immediately harmful.”

“Excellent, something’s going our way for once. Touchdown in ten minutes.”

\---

The world that met them as they stepped out the shuttle was eerily familiar. Tall, leafy trees surrounded the ship, their huge green leaves oddly tinted by the red light.

Kon looked up and winced at the sight of the crimson sun far above. “Great, there goes my mojo.”

“You were the one who demanded to come.” Tim said.

“Yeah, I know. But it still sucks.”

Green Lantern shot them both a critical look. “Right, let’s make this fast. I’m sure you’ll appreciate why.” He strode off towards the edge of the clearing, causing them to hurry after him.

Tim was trotting slightly to keep up with the Lantern’s long, quick strides but he didn’t mind the exertion, the quick pace echoed the roar of his own thoughts. They were finally here, on the planet, with the Javelin’s locator beacon loud in his earpiece. They were _here_. Tim wanted to run, hell he wanted to fly. But this was still unknown territory and he had no idea what awaited them at the end of the signal. There had been no response to their desperate attempts to contact the Javelin before they left the ship above. That was disconcerting, but not unusual for this situation. Whatever usual was for things like this, Tim didn’t really care. At this stage nothing could dampen his spirits. Beside him Kon was also bouncing lightly, despite the strain visible on his face.

“How long do we have to walk?” Kon asked.

“The locator beacon is about two clicks to the southwest.” John said in clipped tones.

“Two! Why don’t we just fly?”

“Because you’re all out of juice and I’m not going to risk using my ring while we’re planetside. I have no idea how its energy will effect this time displacement.”

John picked up his pace until all three of them were almost jogging. The pace was easy to keep and in the end John was right – it wasn’t far. Soon the forest thinned out and the three found themselves at the edge of the trees looking out onto an open expanse of grass that flowed all the way to the horizon, the rolling field split by a wide river.

The landscape was intensely recognisable and yet subtly different. The trees behind them were more short and squat than Tim’s eye was used to. The grass looked soft and thick, more like velvet than vegetation, and nothing on Earth came close to the shade of yellow the... herd of creatures in the distance were. In the middle of this grassy expanse was an incongruous vision; a log cabin, complete with fenced paddocks and sheds, sitting on a flat area close to the river. It was so achingly familiar Tim almost laughed when he saw it, like something right out of a history book. After all those days of anxious waiting and hoping and the heavy weight of dread making his stomach churn, here they were. The chirp of the locator beacon was louder than ever in Tim’s ear.

They were here.

Tim sneaked a look at Kon standing beside him. He wondered if he had the same ridiculous big grin on his face.

They’re here!

Even the stoic Lantern seemed happy for once as he turned and looked at both boys. “Well, come on then.”

Kon let out a whoop and all three ran down the grassy incline and across the plain. Halfway there Tim started calling for Bruce and Clark, but the house and it surrounds was quiet and still. As they got closer he studied the structures carefully. Under closer inspection the little house was in considerable disrepair. Almost all the paddocks had fallen fences and a number of the small sheds were leaning at angles. A few metres from the house was a long mound in a cleared grassy area with a small track leading from it to the front door, barely visible through the sprouted weeds and shrubs. Tim’s exhilaration started to slip away. Something wasn’t right. John must have sensed it too as he slowed his pace, and all three of them drew to a halt just a few metres from the house.

Nothing at all moved within.

The front door was ajar.

Something was wrong.

Tim wanted to volunteer to go in alone. He had the words on his lips but he just couldn’t... he’d come so far with the support of his friends and colleagues, they were bound together in this search. They looked at each other and it was decided, without any words exchanged, that they’d go together. John briefly contacted the ship above, giving him an update so far. That done, full of trepidation, they entered.  
The door was stiff under Tim’s hand and needed some persuasion to open fully. It gave way with a groan, revealing the insides of the cabin in the dim, crimson light filtering through the small windows.

Inside everything was oddly familiar. Rough-cut wooden furniture was spread around the single room. There was a fireplace, ash blackened and cold, against one wall faced by two large, low wooden chairs. A table and two chairs sat against the other wall, near a set of benches and cupboards piled with carved bowls and cups that was clearly a kitchen. Further along was a battered and worn desk, propping up bookshelves stuffed with dusty, homemade tomes. Dust motes filled the air, giving the room a smoky quality. The stillness of the room was oppressive, like an ancient library. Or a tomb. It felt wrong to break the heavy silence and the three men were quiet save for the sound of their boots on the wooden floor.

Tim walked slowly to the careworn desk, covered in piles of rough-bound notebooks. There was one sitting open in the centre of the desk. Tim reached out and ran a finger down one page and the whole book fluttered apart under his touch, the binding holding the pages together completely disintegrated. Beside him Kon bent down to pick up one of the loose pages, and an indescribable look crossed his face as he read it. He passed the page to Tim who accepted it gingerly. The paper was thick and coarse, covered in tiny neat lines of Kryptonian symbols and loosely scrawled English in a recognisable hand.

Evidence that both Bruce and Clark had been here. Tim was holding it in his hands, the thing he’d hunted desperately for. But they were nowhere to be seen and Tim has a sneaking suspicion that... that they were... It suddenly all felt surreal. The stillness and the strangeness of such a domestic, colonial scene under an alien red light gave the whole thing a dream-like feel. Tim felt his hands start to shake.  
John walked over and studied the page over Tim’s shoulder, before turning to explore the furthest corner of the room. Tim didn’t follow him. Instead he bent to collect more of the fallen pages, carefully shuffling them into a neat pile; all the pages where filled edge to edge with writing, maps or tables. This one described the changing of the seasons and the migration of the strange yellow beasts they’d seen outside. Another seemed to be scribbled plans for a waterwheel. The precise, clipped tones of the explanatory text echoed in Tim’s mind in a voice he hadn’t heard for days. He smiled slightly despite himself, but it was not an expression of joy.

They were here. And they had been for a very long time.

“Tim.”

The sound of his name in the absolute quiet of the room made him jump. He turned to look at John, who merely gestured him over with a nod of his head. Tim went. The Green Lantern was standing over a bed. It was large and low, covered in coarsely woven sheets, with a brightly-coloured patched blanket folded over the end. John was staring at the bed with a soft look in his green eyes. Tim turned and followed his gaze, and the world seemed to melt away like a dream upon waking.

There was a small shape to one side of the bed just visible under the linen, all angles and hollows. Whisps of fine grey hair were scattered across the pillow. John reached down to pull the sheet away and Tim wished anything that he could look away because he knew exactly what was coming next. But he couldn’t, he was mesmerised. John lifted the fabric away and Kon, who’d approached without Tim even noticing, inhaled harshly. But Tim gave no outward sign of emotion, he saw exactly what he knew he’d see.

The body on the bed was old. A thing of bones and desiccated ligaments and dust, it looked tiny in the depths of the bed. Tim knew bodies. He knew bones and, even as his throat constricted and his eyes started to burn, his mind was cataloguing and analysing; healed compound fracture of the left ulna and radius, indications of arthritis in the carpometacarpals, numerous ossifications of damaged ribs, artificial knee joint, degeneration of vertebrae, metal plate on the right tibia... He knew the injuries. He’d seen the scars. In the worst cases he’d even felt the blood slick up his own gloves. But now, to see those battle scars laid bare, in full view... Unconcealed when he’d such a ... When he had been so private and...

Tim couldn’t breathe. His face felt too hot and his eyes itched and the world turned sideways with a sickening lurch. This was so wrong. So very wrong and broken and utterly unable to be fixed... He started to shake and something solid and warm wrapped around him. It wasn’t until his mind registered that it was Kon, holding him tight with those powerful arms and breathing broken, quiet sobs into his hair, that Tim realised that he was crying. Tim’s knees buckled and Kon sunk down to the floor with him, keeping hold of him. But Tim hardly noticed. All he could see was the figure on the bed, it seemed almost too small, too helpless to be all that was left of the man Tim admired. But the same man had taught him logic and reasoning and even now a quiet voice in his head kept telling him what his heart refused to accept.

They’d found Bruce.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long and heartbreaking search comes to an end.

The shadows rolled in fast as the giant red sun retreated, the darkness covering the hills and the resting beasts and the little cottage by the river. Two figures sat in the open doorway watching the red sky bleed away to night. Robin had his knees folded up under this chin, his arms encircling them. His domino mask was gone and his eyes held a distant, lost look. Nightwing was curled beside him, the pair sitting shoulder to shoulder. One of the books from inside was cradled reverently in Dick’s his lap; others rested in a pile by his knee.

The minutes slipped by.

The stillness of the planet was haunting. There were few birds in the sky and only the occasional call from the distant forest broke the silence. There was even less life on the plain itself. The only conspicuous animal was the large yellow herd of beasts grazing openly across the field, although quick flashes of something small, fast and rabbit-like could be seen in the longer patches of grass.

Tim was cataloguing it all absently, his mind ticking over by habit. It felt... strange. He felt vulnerable and exposed in a way he hadn’t since his father died. He never thought he’d feel like that again. Not because Bruce wasn’t important to him but because the man had always seemed so... indomitable. But now here Tim was, sitting in the scarlet light of an alien sunset with his back to the bones of the one man he thought he’d never see fall. It didn’t hurt. That would come later. For now there was just a cold, dead weight in his bones and a grey fog that seemed to hang between him and the rest of the world.

Beside him Dick closed the book he was reading and carefully added it to the pile. He rolled his shoulders and turned to look at Tim as if to say something, but one look and he reached out to wrap an arm around Tim’s shoulders and pull the younger man closer against his side. Tim felt Dick rest his head against his own.

“Oh, little brother.” Dick breathed into his dishevelled hair. “It’s okay.”

Tim tried to suppress a sob but Dick pulled him in even closer. It was not okay. Things will never be okay. Bruce wouldn’t use empty platitudes like that. Bruce wouldn’t... wasn’t here. And he never would be again. Tim held back another sob, deep in his throat. He didn’t want to cry again. Now, or ever. It was exhausting, taking his pain and wrapping it tight, holding it within himself. He was so tired of being tired. Dick rubbed his arm and Tim closed his eyes, relaxing into Dick’s chest. It was warm there and sound of Dick’s body so close to him was like the rumble of distant traffic or the hum of a city; the absence of which made this alien world more foreign than the red light or absent wildlife. Tim curled closer and felt some of the chill ease from his bones. He rested. He slept.

\---

He awoke to darkness and aching muscles. He shifted and felt a weight underneath him; Dick resting against the door jamb and fast asleep himself. Dick’s arm had slipped off his shoulder and Tim was free to stagger to his feet and away from the house. He looked up but there was no moon to illuminate the sky and the stars were unfamiliar. There was a light just to his left, as he walked quietly towards it the darkness resolved into Kon crouched over a torchlamp beside the grassy mound. Tim went to him without a word and kneeled beside him.

“It’s Clark.” Kon said, his voice broken.

“Yes.” Tim answered softly.

“I...” Kon whispered, reaching out to run his hands down the side of the mound (grave, Tim’s mind unhelpfully supplied), letting the velvet grass brush over his fingertips. “How long do you think...?”

“About two years before Bruce.”

Kon turned to look at him and Tim half-shrugged.

“Dick’s been reading the... books.”

But they weren’t just books. They were records, surveys, essays, diaries, notes. And letters, at the very end, with no reply.

Kon sniffed loudly and rubbed at his eyes. “So what are we gonna do?”

“Take them home, I guess.”

“Just like that? That’s it?”

“Well, I think… They belong on Earth.”

“They belong with us! Not in some stupid grave. I mean, yeah. If this is it I’d want to take them home for Ma, and stuff. But is this it? This weird time thing just ate up their lives and they’re gone?”

Tim took a deep breath. “This is it. I don’t see how we can ‘fix’ this, Kon. We barely even managed to find them at all.”

“This sucks.” Kon’s voice broke again.

Tim nodded slowly in the darkness.

\---

"I'm glad you're back." John's voice boomed over the ship's intercomms as soon as Tim, Kon and Dick stepped off the shuttle. "I've been running tests while you've been down on the planet and you need to see this.."

The three all looked at each other for a moment then Dick shrugged and led them up out of the docking bay towards the cockpit.  
“Thanks for coming.” John looked up as they entered, unusually pleasant. Wally gave them all a week smile too, but didn’t seem compelled to join the conversation. “I’ve been working on this time displacement while you’ve been away and I think… I think there’s something unusual going on here.”

“Really.” Kon muttered under his breath.

John ignored him and continued. “It looks like this time disturbance is the result of an unsuccessful attempt to place this planet is a static field."

"What does that mean?" Tim asked.

“I think that this planet here is… the Earth. Or at least, one from the distant future that someone’s tried to preserve.”

"What, wait. That's _Earth_? That doesn't look like..." Dick said.

"Take a look at all these readings; gravity, atmospheric composition, radiation decay, water ratios. It all strongly resembles Earth, way too much to be a coincidence. This is Earth."

"So, this is Earth and someone tried to... put it is stasis?" Kon asked.

“Yes. The giant red sun here is our sun at the end of its life. I think maybe someone tried to ‘capture’ the Earth in time before it was destroyed, billions of years from now.”

"This is insane." Tim said quietly as he ran his hands through his hair.

“No, this is awesome.” Kon countered. Everyone turned to look at him.

“What? Can’t you see? All we gotta do is find the guys who did this and make them undo it!”

“Superboy, whoever did won’t be around for eons of years.” John said.

“Then we find someone now to undo it!”

“This stuff here is so far beyond our understanding. Hell, we could hardly even find the planet at all. Who are we going to find who can counter technology that hasn’t been invented yet?”

“I don’t know! Anyone! Magic, science, I don’t care. Someone’s gotta know.”

“Son, I know this is hard on you-”

“I’m not your son!”

“Look, denial is the first stage of the grieving process-“

“I don’t care! I’m not grieving because they’re not dead. We can fix this!”

“Kon, please.” Tim reached out to place a hand on Superboy’s shoulder but he shrugged him off.

“No, I’m not going to lose my fath- Clark to some stupid time thing.”

“I think you need to calm down-“

“I think we _all_ need a bit of space right now.” Dick interrupted, hands raised.

No one in the room moved.

“Please.” Dick added quietly. John stepped back and took a seat in the pilot’s chair. Kon used the moment to turn and leave but the tension in the room remained. One by one the others left to go their own ways.

\---

Tim retreated to the sleeping quarters tucked away towards the back of the ship. He sank down onto the nearest bunk, not feeling refreshed at all from his earlier nap on the planet. He lay curled in the quiet of the dim room for some time, letting his mind wander nowhere in particular. He was too tired to sleep, but too worn out to keep on moving. He was still vacantly watching the walls when he heard the door open behind him and someone enter. Tim felt the bed depress as Dick sat down beside him against his back, then bare fingers just brushing his temples.

“Here.” Dick said cryptically, and Tim turned to look up at him. Dick was holding the blanket from the bed where they’d found… that they’d found in the cabin. He held it out to Tim, who took it automatically. The weaving of most of the fabric was coarse, catching on his fingers. But there were patches within the homespun wool of much finer material, here and there splashes of brilliant red and blue, or a dusty black gone almost grey. Tim rubbed at a patch absently, the fabric sweetly familiar. He looked up at Dick, who smiled at him sadly.

“Shove over.”

Tim wriggled over in the narrow bunk and Dick stretched out beside him, pulling the worn blanket out of Tim’s grasp and spreading it over the pair of them. It was heavy and dusty but Tim instantly felt warmer.

“Do you think they knew?” Tim asked.

“Hmm?”

“That they were the last two men on Earth.”

“I don’t know. They left a lot of reading material. I guess we can find out.”

“Yeah.” Tim took a deep breath, the dust of a not-so-alien planet ticking the back of this throat. “I miss them already.”

“I know. I miss them too.”

“Do you think Kon’s right, that there’s still a chance we can find them?”

“I… hope so, Tim.”

Tim lay quiet for a long time. “What would you do if you were one of the last two people on the planet?”

Dick didn’t reply but Tim could hear the solid rhythm of sleep in this breathing. Tim carefully rolled out from under the blanket and off the bunk, leaving Nightwing to sleep.

Out of the sleeping quarters the corridors were just a silent and still as Tim made his way back to the cockpit. He slipped into the room silently but it was just as quiet as everywhere else on the ship. Tim sank down into the vacant pilot’s seat to stare out the expansive windows. The planet was still hanging in the distance but it was flickering slightly as the time field was re-establishing itself. There was no need now to keep the planet in line with real time; there was no one left to save. Even as he watched the small, blue sphere seemed to fade even more. He sat compelled, like watching a candle burn down. Eventually, with time, the planet and its sun faded entirely from view leaving nothing but the unblinking stars.


End file.
